


Swim Good

by drinktea



Series: i'm not so sure that this is love (don't tell me if it isn't) [1]
Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Between Seasons 1 and 2, Character Study, F/M, GINAKA, division one - Freeform, ginoaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:38:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7185458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinktea/pseuds/drinktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she does say something, it's said quietly with a hard edge, her gaze intently on the road in front of them. "I wish you wouldn't call yourself that."</p>
<p>Silently, he appraises her. "It never bothered me when I was on the other side, and it doesn't bother me now," he assures her. And what about what he was thinking earlier? That who he is now is who he'd been fighting his whole life. Enforcer is the title he's been destined for: no more father to deny, no more Kougami to resent. This is him, bared to the world.</p>
<p>They arrive. And while she pulls out her Dominator, ensuring its online status, he swears he hears her mutter, "It bothers me, idiot."</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>(A week in Ginoza's life as a newly minted Enforcer. His ghosts, his burdens, his work and maybe, by accident, his friends.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swim Good

**Author's Note:**

> Please take note: this is rated mature for violence and some violent imagery. Though I doubt this'll shock anyone, especially if you've watched Psycho Pass (and I hope you have), I thought it fair to warn you in case you're not feeling it.
> 
> Additionally, since this is Ginoza character study that takes place between seasons, there are heavy spoilers for season one. There's also a fair amount of related angst, but all in Ginoza fashion, of course.
> 
> Well, I hope I've done him justice! Ginoza was seriously shafted in season two and I'm still kind of salty over it, if I'm being honest. Just thought I'd give the little nerd some love. Please read on, and I hope you enjoy!

**+**

 

 

**MONDAY, 8 JANUARY 2114, 10:00**

"Hello, Ginoza-san. I'm Iwase Megumi," his new therapist greets him, arm extended. She's a slight woman, not unlike Tsunemori in build, only with piercing white-blue eyes. As he returns her handshake, he gazes into those eyes and suspects them capable of narrowing into wicked twin diamonds. _Interesting choice of therapist for the most on-edge individuals on the planet_ , he coolly notes to himself.

But because he believes in good first impressions, he instead says, "Iwase-san. Good to meet you." And waits for her to take a seat.

She notices his manners and tamps down a smile. She settles into her chair with a surprising air of comfort. "Likewise, Ginoza-san. I feel it would be fair to inform you that from this appointment onward that I'm your new _permanent_ therapist."

He barely bats an eyelash. It makes no difference to him—as long as they're qualified and keep his information confidential, who really cares that it's been a different person interrogating him each week? The MWPSB has a lot more on its plate to deal with than just finding someone whose hue won't cloud over listening to the horrors its Enforcers and Investigators dole out each week (and especially after this Makashima business). He sits down, forearms resting wholly on armrests.

"What would you like to discuss today, Ginoza-san?"

The past week was a boring one, a lot of paperwork save for one mission into the factories, and that doesn't really give a whole lot for him to ponder over, much less to tell his therapist about.

"Your psycho pass is extremely stable as of late," she prompts, flipping through the papers in front of her, "your hue is clear and your crime coefficient is holding steady. This goes back as far as two months ago. Any ideas on why?"

Unbidden, the view from his desk comes to mind, where he can easily see Hinakawa's awful posture and Tsunemori's stoic face. The longer she reads a report, the closer she angles herself toward her computer screen. It's a place of order, peace and constancy. He knows his role, his team and his goal. Whenever Tsunemori looks up at him and he's looking back, she knows she's caught and backs away from her screen sheepishly. Every time, he offers her a reprimanding smile. And it's true—that in a lot of ways, everything changed once he was demoted. But in a few, smaller, meaningful ones, nothing changed at all.

But back in his therapist's office, he clears his throat. It's a sure giveaway, but he says, "No."

A piqued eyebrow. "No?"

He links his fingers and smoothly lies, "None whatsoever."

After his therapist makes a note somewhere in her stack of papers, she looks up at him and— _oh, his suspicions about her eyes_? Dead on.

He volleys back with a polite smile.

 

 

**+**

 

 

**TUESDAY, 9 JANUARY 2114, 04:34**

_This is a dream_.

He knows that this is a dream because Masaoka is alive. And in it, Ginoza is nine again. He remembers being nine for two specific reasons. First: when he was nine, he fractured his wrist running from a bully at school. He landed on it to break his fall and spent weeks in a cast. The bully could never quite look at him with the same loathing, and that only made him feel more ashamed for being so weak.

Second: when he was nine, his father was admitted to psycho pass rehabiltation.

He knows how it goes, according to his memories: his father looking tired, his mother telling him to calm down, and that retirement isn't far away with the salary a detective makes. His father, lost in his own thoughts at the dinner table. His mother's stifled weeping from beyond the bedroom door.

The news is delivered right before he takes his first bite of breakfast: _Nobuchika, your father isn't coming home for a while._

He doesn't eat that day.

The flurry of emotion that follows is hazy but strong: frustration, sadness, resentment and anger. He learns to let his anger cool after that, to let it ice over into a solid stopper over his feelings. His mother stops asking how he feels after he stops responding. He visits his father once and he can't stand seeing him—in that room, at all, whatever.

_So what the hell is this?_

"I'm sorry, Nobuchika," his father says, sitting tall, even in his regulation rehab clothes. He has an air of dignity even when they've done everything they can to strip it away.

He observes his father through the glass. This is where he turns and runs away, disgusted with the flood of emotion that rushes to the surface. His father had always been his hero—had he been lying this whole time? The Sibyl System certainly seems to think so: the sign above the door says he's a latent criminal.

But instead, here in this dream, nine year-old him says, " _It's okay_." He puts his hand on the glass.

Masaoka smiles and mirrors him.

And then he wakes up in a cold sweat, screaming.

The only dream worse than seeing his father die in front of him again is this one. This one, where he sees what might have been.

 

 

**+**

 

 

**WEDNESDAY, 10 JANUARY 2114, 20:37**

The crime scene is a gruesome one this time, despite the mudane setting. The father and mother are being attended to by the Inspectors and Enforcers. The two smaller bodies they have left to the drones. For all the brutality they've each witnessed, there are some horrors that strike you fresh each time.

Tsunemori stands over the body of the mother, eyes sweeping the data methodically. The slight downturn of her mouth has him striding over to her.

"Who kills a whole family in the middle of a peaceful ward?" she asks him quietly. Though her eyes are analytical, he sees her sweaty hands through the latex gloves. Although it could be the absurd amount of heat for this day in early January, his intuition tells him it's something else. He knew he didn't miss the resemblance the little boy shared to one of their esteemed ex-colleagues.

He stares at her profile, focused— _too focused, hiding something_ —and turns back to the readouts. _He's haunting us still._

But they have a job to do.

He reads the data compiled by the little forensic bots. He's been doing this for too long not to look at the facts. But his instinct narrows his focus. He pulls up profile after profile, searching for the link, the thing that will _click_ into place and shed light on these deaths. He feels it, knows it in a way that is bone-deep, almost feral. It's the feeling he tried so hard to deny two years ago, five years ago, hell, even nine years ago: that _this_ is how you get your man, and it's clear that in that moment—

_Got it._

This is who he's been meant to be all along.

He looks over at Tsunemori. Her answering look is a grim one. "Someone who has nothing left to lose."

 

 

**+**

 

 

Their hunt for the perpetrator is a short one, thanks to Ginoza's intuition and to Tsunemori's doggedness. The profile flashes on their wristwatches to remind them of their target. Scanners last placed him in the red light district, where they evaluated his hue as almost completely black and his crime coefficient as 405.5. Workers in the district are only allowed within certain narrow margins in terms of psycho passes. Otherwise, they are tracked down for rehabilitation. But the vast majority of course, has crime coefficients above 100.

In short: the potential for collateral damage is high.

"Ginoza-san," Tsunemori speaks up from her seat in the car, "what should I expect?"

He's mildly surprised. Tsunemori hasn't asked him for advice for a while on such a large matter. When he's asked for his professional opinion, it's usually some input on an article or on a long-standing case he'd once presided over. (She doesn't linger over it, and neither does he.)

"The red light district holds roughly 1,200 sex workers. Their crime coefficients fall between 100.1 and 114.9. Any higher, and they're forced into rehabilitation. All workers were at one point, made to undergo psycho pass rehabilitation themselves and know the risks of working. Gender ratio: 85% female, 15% male—"

"Ginoza-san," she interrupts, waving her free hand, "I meant, what should I expect, as in what should I expect from the case?"

He raises an eyebrow. "I don't follow."

She looks at him instead of the road, and he's sorely tempted to direct her gaze with a firm hand. "What's this guy thinking? Where can we find him, since he's avoiding scanners?"

His eyebrows lift almost clear into his hairline. "You can't be expecting an answer for those questions, Inspector. Leave the hunt to the dogs."

The look that comes to her face tells him that she is bursting with things to say— _don't worry about my psycho pass, I could handle it if you'd let me,_ or maybe even _hunting isn't just your job Ginoza-san._ (And the distinct possibility comes to his mind that she might even say _stop being such a condescending jerk_ , because he knows what he just said. But the thing is—Tsunemori wouldn't utter those words much less think them.)

When she does say something, it's said quietly with a hard edge, her gaze intently on the road in front of them. "I wish you wouldn't call yourself that."

Silently, he appraises her. "It never bothered me when I was on the other side, and it doesn't bother me now," he assures her. And what about what he was thinking earlier? That who he is now is who he'd been fighting his whole life. _Enforcer_ is the title he's been destined for: no more father to deny, no more Kougami to resent. This _is him_ , bared to the world.

They arrive. And while she pulls out her Dominator, ensuring its online status, he swears he hears her mutter, "It bothers _me_ , idiot."

But then he takes a second look at the bite in her expression, at the laser focus reflected in her eyes, and decides that he must have heard wrong.

As usual, when the divison is split up for cornering prepetrators, he, Kunizuka and Inspector Tsunemori are on a team. They're tracking him directly with the aid of Karanomori while the other half of the team is dedicated to minimizing collateral damage. After briefly strategizing, everyone agreed that the risk of civilian casualities was too great, but a general warning would only elicit violent action from someone so unhinged. (When he'd made that point, he could feel Tsunemori's stare searing into him.) The area stress level didn't seem to be rising, so they could afford to keep this neat. Shimotsuki's team would clear out as many habitants as possible, then join their team, which would be herding the perpetrator into an isolated area.

"Alright, is everyone clear on their assignments?" Tsunemori pauses only briefly, so sure in her team's competence, "let's go."

He follows her lead, just off of her right elbow.

"Shion-san," she says, voice full of authority, "which entrance?"

The analyst's voice fills their ears immediately, "You're at the South entrance. You want the East one."

They turn in tandem toward the Eastern entrance of the district. With surety, they walk headlong into the flashing, gaudy lights.

 

 

**+**

 

 

His mouth is dry, his forearms are aching and his eyes sting. But his mind is sharp and his heart beats strong. That's how these operations go. Hours moving through the passageways and tunnels, all to find their target. If he had a choice, he'd rather do these than knowingly barge in and raise the area stress level.

He checks on his teammates. Kunizuka looks no worse for wear, barely a hair out of place—she's always been tough. Inspector Tsunemori's walk is purposeful, but she is clearly thinking too hard about something. His mind jumps— _Kougami?_

"Target's last known position has been updated. He broke into a brothel and knocked out the doors. Directing you there now. He has a hostage," Karanomori reports. "Area stress level rising."

_Shit_ , he thinks, mouth drying out even further. They have to end this soon.

"Hostage's psycho pass?" Tsunemori asks.

Karanomori doesn't immediately respond, but they can hear the furious pace of her typing. "Hue cloudy. Crime coefficient up to 75.3 from last known scan. And Akane?"

He knows it's not a trick of the light—the Inspector's expression hardens. "Shion?"

"The hostage is a child."

Ginoza's stomach violently flips. _So, I was right._

"Noted, Shion," the Inspector says back stonily. Then she checks her wristwatch and pulls up the updated map. The red dot is positioned relatively close to them and their optimal path takes them through a side street to flank the building. The second team is en route as well, coming from the west, but their ETA is five minutes after theirs.

As soon as they arrive, Kunizuka gets to work on the door's locking mechanism—sealed in the hope of containing the source of the area stressor.

Averse to wasting time, Tsunemori briefs them and starts her sentence as if she's been speaking all along. "Remember: our priority is the hostage. Minimize trauma. There's no telling what kind of weapons the target is concealing. We do this safely. _No selfless heroism_ ," she emphasizes, shooting a quick look his way. He catches Kunizuka eyeing them both over her shoulder with suspicion.

_What?_ He raises an eyebrow her way.

_Nothing_. Kunizuka turns back to the lock.

"Seven individuals reassessed and recommended for rehabilitation," Karanomori dutifully informs them.

That is when Tsunemori— _Akane_ —closes her eyes. And when she reopens them, they are steely in the meager light of the night. As the lock on the door falls to the ground with a loud clang, she orders, "Both of you, on me!"—and they charge in.

"Turn right after the stairs," Karanomori guides them. The only sounds he hears are her voice and their endless, thundering steps. "They should be in the lounge. Plenty of cover. Past footage indicates at least six workers in the room with them."

The three of them find the door to the lounge. Mercifully, it's unlocked. He kicks the door in anyway, knowing the loud noise may startle the target enough to give them the advantage. Tsunemori squeezes past him, running into the room first. He feels his heartbeat break out into doubletime, feels the irrational urge to grab her and drag her back, but he knows it's not his place.

"This is Inspector Tsunemori of the Public Safety Bureau! Drop your weapon!" she shouts, ducking behind a row of booths.

He immediately ducks and rolls to her, peeking out from the top of the booth momentarily. The target is holding his hostage close, a boy of about ten, but his gun is pointed in their direction. He quickly counts six women—quivering, alive—standing in a row behind him, as if for evaluation. The lights inside the room are purple and red, shedding odd shadows on their pale, clammy skin.

"You people are nothing! What can you know of the human heart?" the target yells back, vocal cords sounding ripped and raw.

Ginoza wants more than ever to end this. He looks to Tsunemori for confirmation. She nods immediately— _I trust you_ —and he takes off for the closest cover he can find. Kunizuka, he knows, is already at the target's far side and ready to cover him.

"Hostage's hue is clouding," Kunizuka reports to them. _She has her Dominator at the ready_ , he realizes.

"Release the boy!" Tsunemori continues, voice louder and more firm than you would expect, had you not worked with her before. As it is, her absolute belief in what she is doing only gives him strength. He knows what he has to do. ( _Minimize trauma_ , her voice echoes.)

"Inspector, Kunizuka, cover me!" he tells them, then charges out of cover to the target's right—the side the hostage is guarded on. The workers gasp and stumble back.

" _Ginoza!_ " Akane barks, distress singing through every syllable.

"Stay away from us!" the target hollers, clutching the boy closer. Still, he keeps the gun pointed at Ginoza.

_As expected._

Once he gets close enough to grab the boy, the man fires.

Many things go through his head at that moment, but true to form, he keeps his priorities straight. First, his arms come around the boy. The target, thrown off by his own intensity, easily relinquishes the boy to him. Second, he plots the trajectory of their fall. Ginoza angles his synthetic shoulder for the floor and rolls onto his stomach, shielding the boy (and it strikes him then, with the boy hidden completely beneath the shield of his back, how _small_ this person is). Third, he makes absolute sure that the boy's eyes are covered. " _Kunizuka!_ " he yells.

The hot blood hits the back of his neck.

 

 

**+**

 

 

**THURSDAY, 11 JANUARY 2114, 01:01**

"So, you see, the nerves are kind of like wires," he explains poorly, barely understanding his own arm himself.

The boy nods, eyes traveling blankly over the metal of Ginoza's arm.

They're sitting side by side in the back of one of the Bureau's trucks, legs dangling. Ginoza moves the orange blanket back over the boy's shoulders. After leaving the building, he'd refused to let go of Ginoza. A quick scan placed his crime coefficient at 46.3 and his hue as clearing, so little fuss was made. And then he'd cast about a dozen questioning looks at Ginoza's arm, and well—the rest is history.

The scene outside the brothel is nothing new: flashing, red lights, caution tape, a mix of cars, trucks and drones forming a barricade. Each of the women have their own blanket and are slowly being interrogated by Tsunemori. They are all slated to receive rehabilitation based on quick cymatic scans; none of them seem worried. Shimotsuki and Hinakawa have gone searching for the last rehab candidate. Karanomori tells them that the area stress level has fallen to nearly pre-incident levels.

With an alien tenderness given the harrowing situation, Ginoza looks over at the boy. He's been hesistantly touching Ginoza's forearm. When he catches Ginoza's gaze, he freezes.

He tries to smile (and also tries to forget how strange it feels to smile). "Go ahead," he says.

The boy resumes his slow exploration of Ginoza's arm. He knows he's supposed to be asking the boy questions, but something is stopping him.

Occasionally, the boy's fingers will catch on something and he'll look up at Ginoza, and Ginoza will say _part of the elbow joint_ or _this piece counters this piece_ , and the boy will nod and resume. Though it can't be more than ten minutes, it feels much longer. He watches Tsunemori through the din, speaking calmly to everyone, never over or under-emoting. Her uniform is immaculate.

(Just as he'd hoped.)

And then the boy speaks—his first words in an hour. "Sir?"

He keeps his gaze level and reassuring. "Yes?"

The boy's hands clutch at his metal arm. Obscurely, he wonders if the boy knows that he can't feel it.

"Where am I going now?"

Ginoza wonders at his grasp of the situation. He must know that he can't return to his family, even if he doesn't know exactly what happened to them. (He tries not to remember the four bodies on the floor, the face of the little brother who so closely resembled his best friend.)

Ginoza looks at the boy, carefully examining him for changes in expression. "We contacted your Aunt Kanako. She'll pick you up from our office tonight."

A smile flickers on the boy's face. "I like Aunt Kanako," he says quietly.

Ginoza watches the boy return to this world, little by little. He rides in the car to the Bureau with he and Tsunemori, telling Ginoza about his Aunt's dog. He smiles back, if only so the boy can see one in the midst of it all.

_The resilience of children_ , he thinks somewhat enviously.

When the boy's aunt arrives at the Bureau shortly after, he turns to Ginoza in farewell.

"Thank you, sir," he says quietly.

He leans down to the boy, probably dirtying one knee of his suit. "You're welcome, Chika."

The boy touches his metal arm and leans in, whispering in his ear.

 

 

**+**

 

 

**08:52**

She hasn't been in the office for more than a minute before she comes up to his desk. They both come in slightly early for their shifts—he, because he lives there, and she, because she is a model employee. It is just the two of them so far. Kunizuka is probably with Karanomori, Sugo will come in any minute now fresh from a shower and the gym, and Hinakawa—well, Hinakawa is probably just waking up. And then he wonders: _when did I become the caretaker of the group_? But he cuts off his own train of thought before he thinks of the reply.

To his surprise, Tsunemori hands him a takeaway cup. Green tea? "Good morning, Ginoza-san," she says, barely making eye contact. "May I have a word, please?" she says, leading the way before he can reply.

He nearly forgets to bring along the tea, but his longer strides make up for lost time. As they walk, he sees that she's leading them to the data analysis labs. Something they'd missed last night?

But the lab is empty.

"Inspector, is something the matter?" he asks, right before she rounds on him. Her eyes lock on his.

"Ginoza-san, you know I have the utmost respect for your experience," she begins, placing her own tea on the table (he mirrors her), "your guidance means a lot to me."

He crosses his arms. This is most certainly _not_ why he was called into the depths of the analysis lab. Tsunemori isn't the long-winded type either, so what's going on? "You're more than welcome," he says, anyway.

Her gaze sharpens. "But Ginoza, if you _ever_ pull a crazy stunt like that again, I _will_ shoot you with the paralyzer."

He stares at the firm line of her mouth, at the bags beneath her eyes. Her assertion stuns him, but he recovers in just a beat. "Inspector—"

"Tsunemori."

He bristles, unsure of her sudden desire to be called by her name. Nonetheless, he plows forward, "Tsunemori-san, rest assured, I calculated. I did everything possible to minimize trauma to the hostage. The results speak for themselves."

Rather than appeasing her, this only seems to have doubled her fury. "Ginoza, you _are missing the point_. I okayed you to sweep the area. I _did not_ okay your charge up to the target!"

"Inspector, I was in no danger. That gun was clearly a fake," he tells her, and it's obvious that he doesn't have a scratch on him.

"Yes, but _I_ didn't know that!" she basically shouts at him, and— _holy shit_ —he's never seen her yell like this before, and especially not at someone. "You didn't tell me, Gino! You could have been seriously injured or worse!"

That pulls him up short. He uncrosses his arms, weighing his next words. He catches her eye. Her brow is rumpled and her hair is uncharacteristically dishevelled. (And her mouth is set sternly and her eyes are decorated with bags—)

And though it's arrogant thinking, the possibility creeps in and he can't help but feel guilty: _is this my doing?_

"Tsunemori, I'm sorry for making you worry," he apologizes.

She looks at him a bit longer, then huffs out a breath. Tension seems to leave the frame of her shoulders. She sits on the couch. "Thank you, Ginoza. But it's not that simple."

He sits as well. Her anger seems to have left her. What could she mean?

"You're wondering what I mean," she guesses, as if reading his mind. She takes her tea in hand, but doesn't drink it. "Ginoza-san, you've spent eight months as an Enforcer now. What do you think of it?"

He laces his fingers together. "I enjoy it," he answers honestly. But because he detects that she wants more from him, he continues, "The single-mindedness of the job turns out to be a lot less stressful than being an Inspector. I haven't thought of my psycho pass in months. Doing whatever I can to bring a target to justice... it suits me better." _I feel free_ , he almost adds, but he immediately decides that he's not ready for such a confession.

Her eyes stay focused unerringly on his face. Then she heaves a sigh and takes a long swig from her cup. "I agree, it does suit you. Shouldering all of the burden without regard for yourself does seem to be your happy place," she snarks. She places her takeaway cup delicately next to his.

Wait... what? What is this talk about, exactly?

She leans forward on her knees, angling her torso toward him. Her camisole falls a bit, exposing the skin of her chest.

He averts his eyes and tries not to cough into his glove.

She hasn't noticed though, and goes on to prop her chin in the palm of her hand. "Ginoza-san, have you heard of 'seeing the world in black and white'?"

He inclines his head. "That I have."

"I think you live in black and white."

He simply raises an eyebrow.

"I think you're going from one extreme to the other. And before you deny me, please take the time to think on the last time you set goals for yourself. Not professionally. Outside of work. Or the last time you read something that wasn't a report."

Now, he does cough into his glove. "Did you rehearse this, Tsunemori?"

She just shakes her head. "Ginoza-san. Please, answer me."

He swallows nothing and fixes his gaze on the clock behind her. It's well past the start of their shift, but he can't point it out like this. "Not for a long time," he answers.

"All you do is work out and feed Dime, am I right?"

He doesn't know if he should be offended or not. He goes for _not_ , since he doesn't want to feed the sass that is emanating off of Tsunemori. "I walk Dime around the complex, too," he adds, scooping up his cup.

"Ginoza."

Something in her tone makes him look up.

"The world isn't black and white," she says gently, beseechingly.

After a while, he breaks their gaze. "I suppose... you know that better than anyone, Inspector."

She tilts her head in silence. He feels her gaze boring into him.

He clears his throat and tries again. "It's a lot easier to live in black and white."

Her response is immediate. "But that isn't the world _we live in_."

"Are you suggesting I swim in a sea of grey?" he asks her pointedly.

She rises from her seat. And then, almost as if on second thought, she offers him a hand to stand. "Actually, I do. Join the rest of us, why don't you."

She has left it to him. (But has she really? She has to know—for all of his strength, he has to yield to her. ((And it can't be that hard, what she's asking of him. Right?)))

He puts his hand in hers and lets her help him to rise. After they've collected their tea, he looks over at her and they exit the lab.

Right before they step out together, she gives his arm a squeeze.

He finds himself glad that it was his flesh and blood arm, if only so he could feel it.

 

 

**+**

 

 

**FRIDAY, 12 JANUARY 2114, 15:48**

_"That man... my real dad. He was a bad person, wasn't he?"_

_"... I don't think he started out that way, Chika. But yes, he became a very hurtful person."_

_"He didn't love mom the right way."_

_"That's right."_

_"...Sir, am I a bad person?"_

_"What would make you think that?"_

_"... I didn't like him. I wanted him to leave mom alone."_

_"Chika, you wanted to protect your mom, right?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You didn't want to hurt that man, am I right?"_

_"Right."_

_"That's how you know the difference. Protecting someone makes you good."_

_"... Like you!"_

_"Like me?"_

_"You protected me!"_

 

 

**+**

 

 

Shaking off the memory, Ginoza resumes his report anew. It's not that he's distracted, per se... his account of the case does involve interaction with the hostage, after all. He just needs to finish before the weekend arrives.

( _"Do you think I could become a detective when I grow up?"_

_All Ginoza can do is smile and nod. Inside he thinks_ —

—not the way I did it.)

"Ginoza-san," Kunizuka says, already standing at his desk, "could I verify some facts with you concerning the last case?"

He clears his throat, breaking his reverie. "Certainly," he says.

As they go over the details, Tsunemori comes in for her shift. As she passes his desk, she puts up a hand in greeting to them both. The bags beneath her eyes are less pronounced. Her camisole is purple today.

When he looks up at Kunizuka, her arms are crossed. Her expression is the exact same as it was when she was picking the lock of that door, only this time, he can't summon the attitude to combat her.

"You're not listening to me, are you," she says, lips quirking.

Okay, so maybe he _is_ distracted.

 

 

**+**

 

**SATURDAY, 13 JANUARY 2114, 08:13**  

After three solid rounds of defensive and offensive maneuvers with the training drones, he's done for the morning. His undershirt is sticky with sweat. He badly wants to peel it off, but he still has to walk through the facility back to his quarters, and it's just not in him to walk around half-naked.

He places the drones back on their respective spots on the floor and swipes his forearm across his bangs. They're sweaty, too. He can't wait to shower.

"Ginoza-san," a voice calls.

He hadn't heard her come in, so he's a tad embarrassed when his grip slips and he knocks over an immobile drone. Taking a moment to recover, he says, "Nishimura-san, hello."

She laughs. She's always been high-spirited, especially for a new Enforcer. He forgets whether she's been assigned to the second division or the third.

"Did I startle you? Sorry, Ginoza-san."

He turns now, and she's smiling shamelessly. Using her attitude as a gauge, he responds, "It's alright. I'm sure you're not sorry anyway." He softens his words with a quirked eyebrow.

She steps up to him, taking the fallen drone from his grasp. "Then in that case, I guess you have me figured out," she says, smiling.

He blinks, baffled at her proximity. "Right," he says slowly. "Well, I hope your workout goes well. Good morning, Nishimura-san." Then he exits, crossing the floor with graceful steps.

Back in his quarters, Ginoza finally, gratefully, steps into the steaming water of his shower. As he scrubs away the sweat, a heartening idea comes to him. The more he turns it over in his mind, the better it sounds. By the time he starts drying his hair, he knows he'll do it.

He'll put in a request for a greenhouse.

 

 

**+**

 

 

**SUNDAY, 14 JANUARY 2114, 12:21**

"Thank you again, Inspector Tsunemori," he says.

She looks over at him with a shallow sort of exasperation. "I already told you, it's just Tsunemori. And it's my pleasure."

He just nods, feeling strangely off-centre, and lets silence fall between them. He looks back over his shoulder at the rows of graves, easily picking out his father's. He thinks that he'll remember the view for a long time. Probably forever. He suspects that his heart has a long memory.

The wind whips his hair into his eyes and his tie over his shoulder. It also brings the scent of her to him. Before he can stop himself, he says, "You're not Kougami, you know." It's easier to mention him here, where he feels closer to all the people of his past.

She fixes her gaze on him calmly, the cigarette still balanced between her fingers. He's never seen her take a drag. "Neither are you, Mister Daredevil," she fires back easily.

She makes him smile without trying. "Touche," he concedes defeat to her. He finds himself laughing. "I'm not getting off the hook for a while, am I?"

Perhaps stunned, but happy, she laughs back. It's all wrong for where they are—a place where the living grieve their losses. But they can't stop smiling, so they get into the car and start driving.

He takes his gaze from the highway and lets it settle on her profile. "We're lucky to have you, Tsunemori,"—and he barely knows what he's saying because he's too timid, because he's confused, because those bags are still beneath her eyes—

She pulls him back into the real world— _the sea of grey_. She smiles at him, and it's so pure and bright that it burns. " _You're_ lucky to have me, Ginoza."

And well, he can't disagree.

 

 

**+**

 

 

— _fin_


End file.
